The Journal
by leppress
Summary: What if Vergil kept a journal while he was on Mallet Island? And what if Dante found it...Read on and find out what happened. Speculation. Enjoy.
1. Default Chapter

First of all, the legal mumbo jumbo: Disclaimer: All DMC characters and entities are © Capcom. Alas; I do not own them, and am using them without permission. And I am not making any financial gain in doing so.

This is fiction. Anything remotely resembling real life, is purely coincidental. Or my life is just plainly FUBAR'd, your choice.

Oh and fair warning, this story is copyrighted by me. It is not to be archived, copied or otherwise without my written permission. Any violations to this copyright will be taken very seriously.

Yet another DMC fic. This one isn't romance, may be a bit angsty.

Time frame: Shortly after Mallet Island. 

Many details about Dante's family are left out. Open to speculation. Et al: Were his mother, Eva and brother, Vergil killed, or were they taken by the forces of darkness, blah blah blah. Was Nero Angelo, or Nelo Angelo really Vergil? Or just a clone of him, much like Trish is a "clone" of Eva. Who knows? 

Ok...This is a completely fictional story. Based on IF Vergil had kept a journal of his life before and during his stay on Mallet Island, serving as castellan of Mundus' castle.

This is pure speculation, but I thought it could be interesting. And besides, I'm the curious, what if this happened type anyway.

Parts of this will be written first person. Mainly the journal entries. Which will be denoted by a different font, or something.

Off we go.

* * *

The silver-white haired, red clad man, cautiously picked up the small, ornate, leather bound book from the nightstand beside his bed. He gazed at it thoughtfully. He'd been avoiding it for one reason or other: too busy, too tired, and in a moment of complete and blatant inner honesty, too frightened to open it. He ran his fingers over the gold leafed lettering. It was in a different language, but one he knew well.

One of the demonic languages of the residents of the Underworld. 

He sighed heavily as he put the book down, lest he give into the temptation to open it and find out the truth.

The truth that his twin brother hadn't been dead these past twenty years, and he may well have killed him on Mallet Island, when he was there three months earlier.

He didn't want to face that possibility. He turned and walked away. Leaving the room, turning off the light, and closing the door. Not noticing the book had been blown open by a wayward breeze through the window he'd negligently forgotten to close earlier.

The framed picture of a beautiful woman, with long dark blonde hair, and a red cape smiled out through time. One of the three objects on the nightstand. His mother. A photo from a time when she was young and vital. Now? She was gone, and all he had were the memories, and a few precious items that were hers. The breeze also tipped the picture onto the book. He didn't see it, didn't know it wasn't just a breeze.

Dante Sparda, owner of the paranormal detective agency, Devil May Cry, and resident of the apartment upstairs, came down the steps thoughtfully. He walked into the small, dingy kitchen and sighed again at the dishes piled in the sink. Time for dealing with such mundane tasks later. He dismissed the mess, and opened the refrigerator, took out a cold bottle of beer and went to sit at his cluttered desk and mind the phone.

The journal wasn't the only thing he'd brought back from his previous adventure. He'd brought back many weapons, and Trish, his new partner, and friend. He glanced toward the newer, less disorganized desk where the female who bore an uncanny resemblence to his departed mother was busily writing something.

He silently drank his beer, and put his black booted feet up on his desk. Light blue eyes, all but hidden under the mop of near-white silver hair, going distant as thoughts overtook him. He could read that journal. Should read it. Not now though. He brushed an invisible speck of lint off his red and black leather coat's sleeve. And settled into his chair, tipped back and attempted to blank his mind.

He'd found it after he'd defeated Nelo Angelo for the last time. In his chamber in that cursed castle from Hell. After many tribulations against other foes, he'd faced the Dark Knight for the third and final time. He remembered telling him, he'd had "Guts and honor. It was a shame he served Mundus." Or something like that. And having defeated him, he found on the floor; the twin of his own amulet that he'd worn since his mother had given himself and his brother the necklaces on their birthday all those years ago. Both of them had inscribed on the back, "Vergil and Dante." 

Upon further but quick inspection of the large and very dusty though well decorated chamber, he also found, near the throne-like chair that stood on a raised daise toward the back of the chamber, a stand and upon the stand a small book. A very beautiful book, brown leather cover, gold leafed lettering, and the script was the scrawled, yet decorative writing of the written higher demonic language. Always one for doing further research on his chosen field, Dante had grabbed it, and ferreted it away in a pocket of the red vest he wore beneath his long, red and black leather trench coat.

He thought of his father; as his mind wandered back toward the journal. His father had kept a journal much like the one he'd found. 

His father was the reason he knew how to read the dialect.

His father had been honorable as well. 

His father had also served Mundus for a time.

His father had been a Nelo Angelo, himself. 

He shook his head to clear the troubling thoughts, and opened his desk drawer, revealing a magazine he kept there to occupy his active mind when he'd rather not think of other things. He opened it up to an article that had caught his eye once before, and started reading.

Later that day:

He came back exhausted and dirty from a call that had come in earlier. Trish and himself had dispatched the small invasion of strange demonic presences from a fancy hotel. 

Wasn't good for business. Scared the guests silly to have these things clinging to walls and screeching at them. Baring long fang like teeth, and generally causing chaos throughout the hotel.

He wasn't sure what they were. Yet. He'd have to look them up, in one of his many books regarding the residents of the Underworld. But later. Right then he climbed the stairs exhaustedly and wanted nothing better than to fall into bed.

He usually wasn't as tired from fighting demons, but having to fight over 50 of the monkey like creatures all at once was more than the average amount of physical and mental exertion.

He stumbled into his sparsely furnished bedroom without turning on the light, and fell face first into bed fully dressed. Falling asleep instantly.

Never noticing the book had opened, and the picture of his mother had fallen onto it. 

He didn't notice either the faint aura that had appeared around both objects, flickering with a faint yellowish glow briefly, and then disappearing altogether.

The book waited, as the Devil Hunter slept. Words that had been written by a half demon, half human, who did not remember who he was, or where he came from. Words that hadn't been read by any eyes other than the author's.

A breeze once again blew; knocking the picture to the floor, with a soft thud, although the man who slept but inches away, slept too deeply to have heard it.

The disturbed air, touched on the book, turning the parchment paper pages to the beginning...


	2. Chapter 2

Dante awoke the next morning, aching and still somewhat tired. He had no idea what time he'd crawled into bed, and was somewhat taken aback by the fact that he was still fully clothed. 

He sat up, rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times, before he staggered to his feet and went to the bathroom down the hall from his room. 

He performed his usual morning routine, which consisted of the normal things people do. Brushing teeth and hair, etc. He wasn't fully awake yet, so was running more or less on auto-pilot, the redundancy of his morning routine basically imprinted on his brain, so he could perform his habitual tasks without thought. 

He wandered back to his bedroom and noticed the picture of his mother lying on the floor. He picked it up, and set it back on its place of honor, under the small lamp he had on the only piece of furniture aside from a chair and his unmade double bed in the room, his nightstand. 

He noticed the book was lying open as well. He shook his head, and realized he'd left the single window open all night. No wonder, must've been windy and blown it open, he thought. Even though he actually knew better. The wind hadn't blown at all that day, or night. In fact, the local meteorologists had been saying it was the hottest they'd seen the late fall season for ages, and were worrying at the lack of any sorts of air masses that would break the heat wave. 

Reaching toward the book to close it, and to put it in the night stand's drawer where he had been hiding it, he felt something odd. Not anything premonitive, just more like a pull, to read it. 

He yawned and looked away. Trying to ignore the notion in his head that he really should read it. He wasn't ready yet. He gingerly reached over and flipped the cover of the book back into place. And felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment that he hadn't at least looked at the pages. 

Back to top 

He could read it, after all. It was just hard for him. The translations made it tough to understand fully. He heard the office doors open downstairs and knew Trish was in for the day. He shook his head, and rubbed the back of his neck and walked out of his bedroom, dismissing the book, but not the pull it had on him. That he couldn't ignore entirely. 

Maybe after the first cup or three of coffee if they didn't receive any business, he'd sneak back up, pretending he needed a nap, and start reading. 

The morning had been slow. Not many people knew to call his business. Not many people had demon problems. So bored out of his skull, he got up from his chair at his desk after telling Trish he was still tired and needed a nap. Ignoring the odd look she gave him. 

He quietly stood in front of his night stand and stared at the book. It still beckoned to him. With a deep breath for courage, he picked it up, and opened it to the first page. 

The writing was somewhat sloppy compared to what he'd seen his own father had written. His father had taught Eva, Dante's mother to read and write the Higher Demonic Language. The dialect the Dark Knights used exclusively. 

His father was a very well read man. Had books of all sorts, some of which were his own personal writings. Mainly after his coming to the human world. And Dante had inherited them all. 

Kept them in a special place in the basement of his office. No one else knew about them, and he meant to keep it that way. One of the few things he had left of his family, it meant everything to him. And he found he really didn't care to share that part of his life. After all, it was all he had of them. 

Eva had read to Vergil and Dante at night, and had started teaching them both to read and write the language almost before they'd learned to read and write English. 

When Dante lost both his mother and brother, he carried it on himself in secret, learning the language and the script. But having rarely used it himself, his own writing wasn't nearly as neat as this even was. 

He settled down on his bed, lay back, and started reading... 


	3. Chapter 3

Alpha: Date, unknown, but in the human world, I would suppose it's spring. How I know that, I haven't a clue. But I somehow do. 

I have decided to take on this quaint and somehow old fashioned notion of keeping a journal for many reasons: First and foremost being, although I am fluent in many languages, Greek, Latin, English, Hebrew, and vastly more ancient dialects, I am relatively new to this one. 

Henceforth, I shall attempt to write in the proper language of my standing. I have now become one of the privilaged few. My Lord Mundus has bestowed upon me the honor of becoming a Dark Knight. So now I must use the language exclusive to those of us who have achieved this position. 

I must learn to read and write it fluently. 

So I have decided to use this means to acquire the proper knowlege. 

Secondly: it is aleviating my boredom. As I enjoy something to do when I have idle time. 

Mayhap someday, I can read back upon this, and feel it was more than just a useless waste of time. After all, it was the idea of one of my fellow Dark Knights that I partake of this endeavor after he rudely reminded me of how inept I am with this language. 

Bah! It is far better to learn it this way, than to muddle through and, I do not know the words, but in English it is "fake my way through it" I often wonder why I know these things. 

It's as if...As if I was once human myself. 

I know different however. 

* * *

Entry ll. 

I have not written for some time. My training and serving my lord has taken all but the most miniscule amounts of any spare time I may have had otherwise. 

I am progressing nicely. Although I have heard rumors that there will be a need for me to train harder in the future. 

Rumors and speculation are all it is, I think. 

I hear the summons, I must go. I shall attempt to add more as time allows. This is helping, I can see. My script is becoming neater. Although I sometimes wish I had what the humans call a "pen" as opposed to this rather archaic quill. 

Again, I do not understand how I know these things. I shan't worry about such vagueries. 

Nor will I concern myself with the value of time. Time is different here than it is in the world of humans. Although I seem to relate better to the notion of human time than I do to the time that is known here. 

Strange. 

But for now, I must go. Back to top 

* * *

Entry lll. 

Reading back upon my previous entries, I realize that although I seem to have some human thoughts, it is not, however, something to concern myself with. 

The rumors I bespoke of earlier were actually, indeed fact. I have been trained and have also received the position of Castellen of one of Lord Mundus' earthly realms. Perhaps, knowing the human world and its oddities was not such a bad thing. Indeed, it is one of the reasons I am here now. 

In this castle. 

I shall watch over it. 

There will be another uprising soon. My Lord Mundus is preparing to come back to earth within this time period. 

He has been preparing for his eventual return. 

I have been put in charge of training the troops here. 

At first, I thought I was being punished for some reason or other. The Marionetts and the various other lower demons who now populate this island are beneath me, in both skill and intelligence. But I have found they are willing subjects, and I have had no problems with any of them. 

I just hope that soon I shall be able to leave this place and find my place back in the Underworld. 


	4. Chapter 4

Entry lV: 

I have been here, on Mallet Island, for what is two human years. The monotony is becoming rather mind numbing. I guess this allows me more time to write. 

I have found a full library here. It has helped aleviate some of the tedium. I do enjoy reading. Fortunately, there are also some classics in the library as well. 

Humans never come here. I have no idea why it is so important that this place be guarded over so well. 

Even now, I would welcome the distraction of a human's company. I have grown bored and restless. 

I must make the rounds of the grounds. There are many artifacts here, which must be protected at all costs. In the wrong hands they could become a means to defeat Lord Mundus. 

Before I turn this into a journal of all that I have read, and done I shall end this entry 

* * *

Entry V: 

Oh the tedium! It is enough to drive a sane person to madness. 

But as I look around my chambers, I have found that it is not all bad. I have found various antiques and have managed to decorate to suit my taste and station. 

I especially enjoy the large chair that I am writing from now. It faces the west windows that basically cover the entire wall, floor to ceiling. I can see the sun setting, and I find that rather soothing in some ways. I have light to read or write by when I feel like lighting candles, or the chandelier for that matter. This castle is ancient and has not been brought to modern standards by any means. 

Again, how I know of the modern ways of the human world... 

Sometimes I do wish there was electricity here. But alas, it is not meant to be. 

As I gaze upon my chambers, I realize electric lights would be a bad thing for the furnishings and decorative rugs and such I've found. Faded but not worn, they are still magnificent. Electric light tends to fade antiques such as these. 

This is becoming terribly redundant though. This...Writing. 

I shall endeavor to do my best however. 

I believe I have read every book in that accursed library. I know each and every stone and brick in this castle now. What I would not give for a good battle. 

I grow bored, and my skills grow stale here. 

My Lord Mundus has sent another of the generals to guard over another artifact. The Pride Of Lion. It is in the Cathedral. Phantom, my fellow general, although how such a creature attained that position I have no idea; has been assigned to guard over it, I hope that it can succeed at the task. 

Other than its extraordinary powers and strength, it lacks the finesse of one trained in the finer arts of battle, such as myself. I have managed to strike up a few conversations with it. Even if its vocabulary tends to be rather limited. 

Physical limitations not withstanding. It is not one of Lord Mundus's finer leaders. 

Oh well. I am not one to criticize the judgement calls of my lord. He must have felt that for that particular artifact, brawn was far more important than brains. Perhaps he is right. 

I shan't second guess him. 

I will go read another of my favorite books. 

For the millionth time. 

It is one regarding the fine art of Alchemy. Although I haven't the means to practice that art here, it is still fascinating reading. 

So, that is what I shall do. 

Until next time... 

* * *

Dante put the book down, after having read the first few entries. The syntax was wrong, the grammar was atrocious. It gave him a headache trying to fumble his way through it. 

He closed his eyes after laying the book back on his nightstand. IF it was his brother writing this...He didn't want to consider that possibility. 

He heard the soft knock on his bedroom door. With a weary sigh he got up and opened it to Trish. 

They had a job. 

He walked away. Putting his troubled thoughts in the back of his mind. 

Once again the book shimmered with an aura, that he wasn't there to see, or sense. 


	5. Chapter 5

Entry Vl: 

At last I believe I have grasped the intricacies of this dialect. In the written form. I have found other books, that were hidden away in another room here. The former Castellen, another Dark Knight, had kept books. Fascinating reading. 

I have learned this dialect fully now. I can see my script has become far neater. At least now, I can even read my past entries. 

But I am still bored. 

Damn! Why did I lose my thoughts? Oh well, I am not worried about anyone else reading this, so neatness isn't the greatest concern of mine currently. 

I have been here now for three human years. 

Although I haven't written anything for the past year, I believe I am now confident that I can keep up more with my thoughts. Before it was almost painfully arduous to attempt to write anything other than the most mundane facts. 

Now, I can complete my thoughts. 

I have completed the training of the residents of the castle. I have heard rumors that there will be an invader soon. 

My Lord Mundus is preparing the gate so that he may come through to the human world and take his rightful place as ruler over the dominion of humanity. 

All Hail Lord Mundus Rightful Prince of the Underworld. May his reign last forever. 

* * *

Entry Vll: 

The rumors were false. No one comes to this place. It has been months now. I still grow bored with the tedium. So much so, that I haven't found anything I cared to add to this. 

Even now. 

Until then... 

* * *

Entry Vlll: 

I must find a new quil. Perhaps the Griffon would spare a tail feather. How I hate that pompous, excuse for a rooster. 

Even if he wouldn't care to spare a tail feather...He's a worthy adversary in a practice match. Perhaps I shall engage him. 

* * *

Entry lX: 

As you can see, I now have a new quil. Even now I find myself gloating over the victory I achieved over Griffon. He is no match for me or my abilities. I was able to extract more than one tail feather from him. 

He appears ludicrous with one feather left. 

I must keep this to myself. If anyone, or thing were to find this, they'd think I've gone completely mad. 

Humor is frowned upon. But somehow, I find humor helps me keep my sanity. 

Again that seems an all too human trait. I must somehow tamp this need down. 

Until later...I shall hide the feathers. 


	6. Chapter 6

A few days had passed, and business had become somewhat more chaotic for the Devil Hunter and his partner. 

He'd had no time to sit and read the journal. No time for much of anything, really. Deciphering that journal was the last thing on his mind. 

Not to mention he was avoiding it like the plague for one reason or another. 

But he found he constantly had to ignore the call that came to him like a Siren's call to a sailor to come into the sea and find true happiness. He knew better. 

Somehow, he knew in a place in himself that he kept buried deep inside, that to read that journal, could very well be the hardest thing he'd done. Not just mentally, but emotionally. In parts of himself he tried to ignore. 

If his fears were true, and he HAD actually killed his brother, it didn't bear consideration. He'd have betrayed another part of himself. Even if his brother had turned traitor against all they knew. The thought of destroying the only other remaining member of his family... 

He shook mentally. No, it wasn't possible. If it were... 

He sat again at his desk, a cooling half-eaten pizza sitting in a box next to him. Trish was out on a smaller call. He'd decided to let her take some jobs solo. She'd proven to be as good a hunter as he was, if not better, since she was more demon than human. Her senses were far more keenly tuned than even his own were. 

He prefered working solo anyway. 

And she had come to the light. 

Maybe he could have brought his brother back to the human world if he'd had a chance. 

He shuddered at the frisson of premonition that moved over him, not unlike a chilled hand clutching his very soul. He tried to ignore that too. In vain. 

He got up and answered the call from the book. Best get it done and over with. 

He'd read the first few pages, already. Found that the author's script was becoming much easier to read, and with that, he settled onto his bed again, turning to the page he'd left on before. 

It was now about when he'd come to Mallet Island himself. Apparently the author of the journal was aware of his arrival. 


	7. Chapter 7

Entry Ten: 

At last! Something has changed the monotony of my days here upon this foresaken island. My Lord Mundus has approached me with another of his minions, this one appears to be a human female. Called Trish. I feel nothing toward her, after all she is not of importance to me. 

She was created for the specific purpose of luring the one thing that could threaten my lord's return to the human realm. A male human who has made a vow of vengeance, upon the Underworld supposedly. But he is not fully human so the rumors go. We shall see. She is to leave upon the morrow, to seek this human out and bring him here to us. 

We are to defeat him. 

Perhaps there is hope yet for the end of this drudgery. 

I must go ready the troops. 

And I hope that he will be a worthy adversary. Somehow, I doubt it. Humans are weak as a rule. Weak willed, weak minded. 

I shall return. 

* * *

Entry Eleven: 

I have gathered my forces. They are many. One of particular importance being the monstrosity created by My Lord himself, called the Nightmare. It is neither living, nor dead, but is an almalgomation of damned souls, misery and darkness. Fascinating creature, actually. If it can be called a creature. It seems somewhat mechanical, without being mechanical. 

It has few weaknesses. If the human were to make it as far into the castle as that, he will have a fight on his hands. But first, he must get through me. 

I look forward to the challenge. 

I must rest now. For he is near, I can sense it. 

* * *

Entry Twelve: 

The human and Trish have arrived. The so-called Devil Hunter, is on a mission, to find various objects. He has managed to get past the lower guards, the Marionetts, and has found the use of the Red Orbs. He has unlocked the secrets of the God Of Time statues. Perhaps he will be a worthy adversary after all. 

I have been watching his explorations. He has yet to make it to the library, where the key resides that will unlock the doors to the courtyard where he can find the antichamber where the Staff Of Judgement resides. 

Once he does, he will face the Sin Scissors. The feminine demons are very aggressive. I often wondered why my lord uses them, but I have since found that not only are they ethereal in appearance, they are deadly with their scissors. One weakness is all they have. Their masks. 

Perhaps I may not fight the hunter after all. He may not make it past them. Although his abilities are much like my own. Strange. 

He uses firearms far more than sword. He did find Alastor. The thunder sword bonded with him. Odd that he survived its impaling him. Perhaps he is not fully human after all. I must further observe him... If he were to make it to the Melancholy Soul... 

But first he must defeat the Phantom. It has assured me, it can. 

I will await that time. The hunter isn't far from reaching the next trial. 

He has found the staff of Judgement. He's defeated the Sin Scissors, but there will be more as he continues his explorations. IF he makes it that far. Strangely he has some demonic powers. Mostly due to Alastor, he MUST not be completely human, as the rumors have stated. 

I may have to consult Trish regarding this, as she has had far more contact with this man than I have so far. He doesn't know I have been watching him. He will soon enough. 

But first, he must defeat the Sargassos. Strange creatures again. But very strong. They have the ability to freeze a human with a blast of icy breath. And their bite is something to respect as well. Although I've not dealt with them so much, they are, I must admit, something to give my grudging respect to. 

* * *

Entry Thirteen: 

I have found Trish. She has told me that this is no ordinary human. He is supposedly the only surviving son of Sparda. Legendary Dark Knight, traitor to the Underworld, and defeater of my Lord Mundus, when my lord was cast into that prison two millenia ago. 

Now, I know what my own mission is, it is to see that this human does not succeed in his quest. He must not unlock the various secrets of this castle. If it is true that he is the son of Sparda, he could be far more dangerous than we all thought. But he did not know his father. How I know that, I cannot say. 

But I know beyond certainty that he did not know his father, hence he will not know the many secrets that his father took with him upon his death. 

A human woman would not know all of the secret powers of Dark Knights, no matter that she was Sparda's mate. 

She knew some of the secrets. 

For the human does not carry the sword of a Dark Knight. So he cannot know the true power he could wield if he did. 

Perhaps that is not such a bad circumstance. If he did know of the true power behind his heritage, he could be far more dangerous than we may have realized. 


	8. Chapter 8

Dante put the journal down for a moment, and let his mind wander back to Mallet Island. 

That place had almost killed him more than once. Between the possessed marionettes, and the various Sin and Death Scissors, their higher relatives the Sin and Death Scythes, the other higher demons who'd shown up to end his life prematurely if they'd had the chance. He almost didn't make it out of there alive. 

One of the skulls mounted on his wall on his office was the skull of a Death Scissor. The ram like skull had blood dripping off it still. Dead but not completely, its evilness kept the blood running. 

He decided to go downstairs to mind the phone after all. This was giving him a headache again. To think of all that had happened there. 

Once back at his office, he stared at the dark wood paneling covering the walls, at the wood floor with the runic circle painted on it toward the center, the drum kit he rarely played now. Too busy. And no inclination. He looked toward his various trophies he'd tacked to the walls by various means, swords, daggers, nails, whatever sort of sharp implement he could find to hang them with. Beyond trophies, they were symbolic to him. 

His sworn vengeance to send whatever it was that had taken his mother and brother from him all those years ago, back to whatever part of Hell had spawned it. 

He stretched to loosen the tight muscles in his back, and felt the tension start to ebb. He looked at his own perpetually messy desk, the pizza boxes, notes scattered hither and yon, and sat with a tired sigh at his chair and assumed his usual position. Boots up, and chair tilted on the point of going over. Never one for doing anything by half measures. 

He looked at the neater desk of his comrad, partner and constant reminder of what he'd lost. And wearily closed his eyes, to consciously tamp down that feeling of loss that he perpetually carried with him. Although he'd taken his vengeance upon Mundus for destroying his family, it somehow never seemed to remove that empty space in him. 

He was a young child when they were taken from him. He could do nothing to save them then. He couldn't go back in time, knowing what he knew now, to bring them back. Nothing could be done to change the past. 

He knew that. But wondered sometimes... 

The phone rang, bringing him out of his maudlin reverie. Time to go to work again. 

Checking his own handmade guns, Ebony and Ivory, he grabbed his sword and left the office. 

Once he came back from this latest call, he went directly to his room, and picked up the journal again. Now his curiosity was peaked. He'd read over half-way through it, and found some things that disturbed him. 

But like a good mystery novel, he really didn't want to read the end of it to see the answer before he'd read the entire book. He opened it to the last page he'd read, and this time sat in the chair beside his window. He knew he wouldn't be disturbed, and wanted to finish the reading of this journal. He settled down and started... 

* * *

Entry 14: 

The human has managed to pass the trials of the Sargassos. He is making his way back for the Pride of Lion. Once he acquires that artifact, which he will. The Phantom will not allow him to keep it. 

I feel a sense of...Disappointment. It will not be myself facing this human, but another with far less skill and finesse than I. I would have looked forward to matching wits with this human. His skills are worthy of one such as I. 

I shall go back and observe the battle. He knows nothing of me yet. He may never know. 

* * *

Entry 15: 

Indeed the man possesses great skill. He has defeated the Phantom, this time, but Phantom grows in power with its rage that a pathetic creature such as this human should have bested it. 

I await his finding the Melancholy Soul. It is his next challenge. Once he has found the sword, Death Sentence to unlock the artifact, he will have it. I must keep him from going any further, were he to find the Guiding light, he would be further ahead in this journey. I may have nothing to concern myself with however, for a Shadow guards the entrance into the tower which holds these things... 

He has skills indeed. A worthy opponent, I now have my chance. The human defeated a Shadow, but...Now, he must face me. I look forward to pitting my skills against one who has the same skills as I. But he has not my power. I plan on fighting him fairly, that is my way. 

Until later... 

* * *

Entry 16: 

My head is pounding! I have no idea what happened. I remember I was ready to deliver the coup de gras, but...Then, I was gone. What has happened? This is all very strange indeed. I remember nothing from that moment. I must try to think. 

I know my Lord Mundus is displeased with me. Why? I would have stopped the human, had I a chance. I was taken from the battle before I could kill him and send him to his afterlife. 

I must try to remember what happened. Perhaps this human has powers beyond our expectations? I do not know. 

I do remember he is a fighter of some great skill. He also has some powers, not like my own, but...Something strange. I have a sense of familiarity, something is nagging the back of my mind. My head keeps feeling like it wants to split open the more I try to think. So for now, I shall give up the endeavor. 

I have no idea what the human is doing, where he is going now. I do know, he lives. Somehow; even now, I still sense his presence. Which is very strange indeed. 

* * *

Entry 17: 

I have decided to go away from the castle for a short while to think. It seems the further away I am from it, the more clear my thoughts become. I remember the battle with some detail now. I saw him, through the mirror. I remember walking through, he spoke to me. He is either a very courageous human, or a very stupid one. He had the audacity to speak to me. Does he know what he faces? He must, which again, is odd. 

How would a mere human know of Dark Knights? 

I have something in my hand right now. As I look down, I find I am holding the amulet I've had since...I cannot remember when. It is important to me for some reason. I have no idea why, but it seems I cannot let it go. I have carried it with me for longer than I remember. There are words inscribed upon the back of it, "Vergil and Dante." Those words mean nothing to me. I have often pondered the reasons why I feel such an attachment to something so insignificant as this. Alas, I do though. Perhaps it has some power, and that is why I've kept it with me. 

I feel something. Like a thought trying to come into the foreground of my conscious mind. It is all so confusing to me. I can see the castle from where I sit. It is...Foreboding. Odd, I've never felt such a thing before. I must go now. The more I try to gather my thoughts, the worse the confusion is becoming. 

As I stand and look upon the castle one more time, I sense something...I must go. 

* * *

Entry 18: 

Trish has come to me. She has told me of the human defeating the Phantom for the final time. She has been sent to send me warning. I must keep the human from taking the Chalice to its rightful place. IF he should make it that far. First there are far more trials for him to pass. One being Griffon. I still have a dislike for that creature, but his loyalty for our master is unsurpassed. 

I suppose that is the reason why Lord Mundus has chosen him to challenge the human. IF he should defeat Griffon, then I will have to make sure the human goes no further. Though I keep feeling this sense of foreboding... 

I have no idea why. It is as if...As if, something is wrong here. I have no idea what or why. I just know there is something not right in this situation. And alas the more I try to find some reason in this, the more my mind becomes clouded with random thoughts and illogic. I am a logical being, I dislike dischordant thinking. I must...Oh my head! I've never felt such pain. But... 

The one question that keeps coming back to me is this: How does this human know of Dark Knights? No humans do, unless...He has powers. Is it possible? Is he truly the son of Sparda? 

If so, that would explain why he knows of us. But strangely, I would not think a human woman would know enough to... 

This is becoming a trial. 

I could write of other more mundane things, and as my thoughts turn toward that line of reasoning, I find it does not hurt to think as much, but as I sit here and feel my head trying to explode...I have removed the helm, in hopes that it will allow me to breathe easier. Perhaps I can think more clearly. 

I can take pain beyond anything humans can. I can heal quickly. But this is unimaginable, excrutiating, even for me. 

The human can wield swords as well if not better than some of my own kind. Perhaps...Perhaps, his mother knew far more of his father than I had expected. And his powers...They are indeed those of one who is quite like I am. 

His fighting style is astoundingly similar to my own. That is the oddity that stands out. I have a style quite unlike others of my race. It has been said, it is much like...Sparda's! 

Could it be? Might I too be related even distantly to Sparda? 

How could that be? Sparda had no kin. His only surviving blood is possibly in this human who even now is approaching the place where the Chalice resides. I must go. I must not fail this time. 

Failure could well mean a far worse fate than anything I've since faced. 

Lord Mundus is becoming angry with me. I failed the first time. I must not fail again. 

I must clear my mind of these confusing thoughts. I must... 

Until next time... 


	9. Chapter 9

Entry lXX: 

Once again, I have been defeated. This human, this man, has become far more powerful with the use of the red orbs and also he has found the Ifrit. The gauntlets created in the depths of the Underworld that are capable of unleashing the fires of Hell upon any he chooses. 

He survived the bonding of the gauntlets. Any other normal human would never have survived such a trial. I have to admit a grudging respect. And...And he IS demonic. But his aura, it is not dark. Not like those of us who reside in the Underworld. This...Strange being has light in him. 

The light shines from his soul. It is frightening. He is strong, in heart and body. 

I fought him again. And he defeated me. I must gather my strength. If I have to face him again, this next time, I will not hold back. Even if it means...Killing him. 

For some reason, that seems to be the most disturbing thought of all. If we meet again, it will be a battle to the death. 

I must gain my strength so for now, I shall stay here. I am in my chambers. I will not be disturbed. And I cannot sense his presence anymore. 

This is a good thing. His presence...It...Does something to me. I cannot understand it. 

When I close my eyes, I have vague impressions flitting through my mind's eye. Of a child, no, two children. Both with the silver hair such as that human's and...Much like my own is actually. No, this can't be. It's not possible. That would mean, I am human, or part. I cannot possibly be. 

I will not believe it. 

* * *

Entry XX: 

I have tried to leave my chambers. Just to walk the grounds and I found I cannot leave. I am to be banished like a chastised child here, until I am called again. My failures...Are unforgivable. I must stay here until I gain strength and my mind clears. 

Right now, I have so many things I am thinking at once, it confuses me further. My head is still pounding. It was so excruciating at one point I could do no more than lie on the floor and hold it. I feared it would truly explode. 

My Lord Mundus has warned me that should I fail again, it would not be tolerated. I would be destroyed. Somehow, I feel fate has taken a turn for the worse. 

I see something...It is in my mind, I am playing with another child, he is...Silver haired, and has light blue eyes. I hear his voice, he is saying the name "Vergil." I feel a sense of recognition. Am I dreaming? 

Perhaps if I just sit here and write what I am seeing in my mind, I can come back later and look back upon it and perhaps it will all become more clear...Yes, that may work. I shall allow my subconscious to take over. 

From here on... 

I am a child. I am playing with another who is much like me in age and appearance. I see...I see a woman, she is beautiful. Dark blue eyes, oh they shine with love and light. She has a gentle voice, a gentle hand. I find myself looking to her. She calls to us..."Dante, Vergil, come in now. It's late." 

What was I doing? I get up off the ground, it was cool, and damp. Grass? I was...Playing...What does that mean? We...we were playing with...Cars. Racing. He is my brother, my twin. We are the same age. My twin! How could I forget such a thing? The woman, is human! Oh God! Mother! My mother! I start walking toward the house, and feel...I am on the ground again, my brother has tackled me to the ground. We start wrestling. We are laughing. 

Laughter, is such a painful memory. I haven't laughed in years. I was actually...Happy. I was loved. Oh it hurts so. It hurts! They loved me. 

My mother...She is there, she has put us to bed, and told us a story...About our father. Somehow, it seems this is something that happened often. My brother, is full of questions, as am I. We are satisfied finally. And she kissed us goodnight, ran her hand over our hair and...Oh the pain of remembering. I feel as if...As if the heart I should not have is breaking! 

Perhaps this is my punishment. No, do not think of that...I see, a bed above mine and now it is dark. My brother was saying something to me, I can't remember what it was. I do remember saying something like "Be quiet! Dante, we're gonna get in trouble. Mom can hear us." 

I see him looking over the bed down at me, he's stuck his tongue out at me. He's annoying from what I can remember feeling. But, I tolerate him, because he is my other half. 

My missing half... 

The pain, it's unbearable! I loved my brother eventhough he irritated me endlessly. He'd constantly pick on me. But when it came down to it, we stood together. Always, even in school, when someone would pick on either of us, we'd stand together. We always said we'd make a great team. 

I remember more now. I liked to read, he liked to go out and play. My...Our, mother would lament that I wasn't one for going outside all that much. I was the shy one of the two of us. Dante...Was the more outgoing, more adventurous. He'd be the one that would think of things for us to do. We got in so much trouble together...How I miss him. 

He said something...Birthdays? What's a birthday? I cannot remember...It...It seems important for some reason. "Our birthdays are tomorrow Vergil, wonder what Mom got us? I hope it's that bike like Larry's! I told her I wanted one. You know? It's so cool, if I get one like his, I could pop real wheelies then. Maybe even she's gonna give us something of Dad's. She said something like that. Wonder what it is? You suppose it's one of the swords? That'd be great! We could fight then. Fight the monsters. We could be real knights! Like Daddy was." 

I rolled my eyes, and snorted at him, "Sure Dante. For one, Dad's swords are bigger than we are yet. And Mom isn't going to let us near those guns either. Maybe she's got us something even more cool! Like...Like...I don't know." 

"What could be cooler than one of the swords? I want Force Edge! It's awesome!" 

Awesome was a word he'd learned earlier, and used often. It seemed to express everything he was unable to find words for, I recall. My brother, the rebel. The one who had to be tied down to even begin to open a book. He looked at it like the very tortures of Hell. And going to...Church? Mother took us to Mass every Sunday. We were even beginning catachism. Ohhhh, I remember more now. 

Father Murphy, I wonder...If Dante remembers him? Dante...It's you, isn't it. You are the one I have been fighting. I have faced my own... 

The pain is overwhelming now. I cannot go on. 

I cannot form a reasonable thought. I must stop. 

* * *

Entry XXl: 

Having read back upon the past entry, I find myself feeling as melancholic as the Melancholy Soul. How can I continue this fight? Knowing? I have the amulet in my hand now. I am looking at it. The last thing I carry of my father. Or my family it appears. I have been taken from them. What happened to my mother? 

I can sense the rage inside the human. My brother...My brother! My God, how could I have turned so much against him! I have become a monster myself. The very thing my mother always said my father was not, never would be, I have become. How could I have betrayed so much, and not known? 

I feel...I feel something, it is becoming overwhelming. The pain. It is around my heart. The heart I should not have, and has been hidden from me for so long. It is beating. It is breaking. How could I have done this? 

I know...I remember...I...Cannot...Go on. 

* * *

Entry XXll: 

This is the final entry, I fear. Mundus is aware of my knowlege. The knowlege that I was never to have. Or have remembered. I am Vergil, the other son of Sparda. My twin brother Dante, is the one who has come to keep Mundus from coming back. Mundus is the one who is responsible for his and my coming here. 

He has warned me, no, promised me, that if I fail this time. My brother will face a far worse fate than even I will. He has forced me to see what happened. All those years ago. When...When my mother was murdered. I can't face those memories. Long supressed, the horror of that night. 

Dante screaming...I was screaming as well. 

I remember being grabbed, before our mother could save both of us. She died for us. She tried to protect us. Mundus made SURE I saw all of it. I died a little more I think. 

Oh my brother! It is with a heavy heart that I must face you again. And I wish...No, I pray, that you will find this and see, and understand, that what I must do, is the one thing I was not capable of doing before. I must end this. For you cannot face the Hell I have lived all this time. 

I will not allow such to happen to you. Perhaps, I still do carry some humanity within me. 

I pray...Yes, I pray that I will be spared the fate that awaits me. It is far worse than Hell. For I will be no more. 

I feel something strange, like a warmth entering me. Perhaps, fate will be kind after all. 

But before that happens, I must do this one last thing. 

I must tell the truth of all that has happened to me. 

When I was a child, I was taken by the forces that have since twisted my reasoning and basically hypnotized me for the past 20 years. I lost who I was and what I was. Until now. My brother has come for vengeance against the forces that destroyed his family. I am the last of his family. He does not know. And I if I cannot succeed, he will not know, at least until the time is right. 

I have been living among the demons as one of them. I am half demon myself. I am a son of Sparda. The knight who turned against all he knew and rebelled against the atrocities of Mundus. Mundus, bastard spawn of the devil! I spit upon your name. I loathe you with every cell of my being! To think, I followed you like a mindless sheep to the slaughter for all this time. 

Believed your lies! Your deceit! How could I do such things? How could I have turned against everything our father honorably stood up for? He had the courage to stand against you! 

Now, you force my hand against the one who carries the flame my father held so proudly. You force me to kill him. You tell me the fate that awaits him is far worse than the one that I've lived these past two decades. I cannot let that happen! If I must kill him to keep him from you, I shall. 

But know this Mundus, I will fight him with honor, until the bitter end. 

If I fail, I have one last thing that will help him. You will not keep me from helping him this last time. It is all I have. All I can do to make sure that he defeats you. I hope, should I fail that he can find the inner strength that he bares, that I now sense is within him, to destroy you. If I should fail, then he must not. 

He does not know that the woman you have created; Yes, I see it now, the woman, Trish, who looks like our mother, is another of your sick creations. You knew didn't you? You knew he could not turn his back on one such as her. At least I have honor! I would never have done something so heinous as play these sick mind games. How could you? How could you have done something so ruthlessly evil as bring one such as her into his life? He will be further demoralized. And she's a twisted version of what our mother was. Our mother was a beautiful being. This..This CREATURE is nothing like her. You failed Mundus, for Dante will see her for what she is. 

Of course, if she fails, you will just smite her down as you have everything else, once its usefulness has come to its end. As you did Griffon, as you will me. I know, I know even if I do succeed in murdering my own flesh and blood, that my existance will be ended as well. 

But one thing you did not count on, was I HAVE a soul! Yes, I am half-human, and though that soul was black as anything in Hell could be, I have found the light. I shall laugh as you fail to take me down. You may take my body, but my soul will live on. 

God willing...I have remembered what I am. And I have asked for forgiveness from the very one who created us all. And there is nothing you can do to stop that. I just hope He will forgive me for what I am about to do. A crime as old as time itself, as Cain murdered Able, so shall I kill my own flesh and blood. 

My twin. My beloved other half. I do not know you now. I wish I did, I wish I could have been there for you all this time. 

It's too late for regrets. It is far too late... 

Before I go, I must do one last thing. 

He is coming closer, I must finish this, and hope... 


	10. Chapter 10

This is the final entry: 

I have found out the truth behind my ancestry, and I am ashamed of what I have become. 

I have become something my father was, but turned away from, and fought against until the very end of his life. What my mother often told my brother and I; I remember now. 

I am the second son of Sparda, Legendary Dark Knight. The one who fought against and defeated Mundus when he saw the atrocities being unleashed upon the humans. 

I have tried to kill my own twin brother, not once but twice. So this entry is for him. And I have written it in English so if he has not learned the dialect he can understand it. 

Dante, my brother, if you are reading this, then you know who and what I am. 

And that I am gone. 

Please do not grieve for me. For I am happy knowing that you became what our father wanted us to be. At least one of us did. I am honestly ashamed that I have done some things that are better left unsaid. 

Just know this: I fought you with honor, as our mother told us our father always fought his foes. The last time we fought, you obviously won. Do not worry, it is the way it was meant to be. 

Go on with your life, and your life's journies. I am done here. 

I died knowing that you are at least safe, and carrying on the tradition our father started. You now have the amulet in whole. Your sword is now the very one our father carried until his death. Carry it with pride. 

I am proud of you. Do not miss me. I am gone, but I would never have wanted to come back to the human world. For I have spent far too much time amongst the demon world. It never would have worked for me to try to find my humanity again. It's long since left me I fear. 

One of my regrets is not knowing you. Not having been able to share the grief you have carried with you all these years when our mother was taken from us; and myself, also I would imagine. I wish now, that I'd never been brought here. I wish I had known sooner who I was. I may have been able to come back, and help you avenge the death of our mother. 

However my deepest regret is, that I never remembered you until it was too late. If I had... 

Alas, it was not meant to be. Fate, such as it is, can indeed be most cruel at times. 

Although I was but a child when I was brought here. My mind...Ah stupid excuses. There is no excuse for what I have done. I know that. 

I have sought forgiveness from One Who holds higher power than anyone in the Underworld. My last hope is that I was heard. For I truly regret my past sins against humanity, and above all against myself. I feel like a complete Judas, for turning against everything and everyone. 

I sense that I have been heard. 

I feel a light entering my black soul. Perhaps, there is hope for me after all. 

I hear a voice. It is our mother calling to me. 

I am at peace finally. 

You were meant to carry on. 

Until we meet again...On that higher plane. 

Your brother, Vergil. 

Ω 

The End... 


	11. Epilogue

Dante came to the end of the journal. He carefully closed it, and put it in the nightstand's drawer. He knew the truth now. Knew that it was indeed his brother he'd killed. And he swallowed the knot in his throat he'd tried to ignore all along. 

He also knew, that as one last act of rebellion against the master who'd forced his ways onto a child too young to understand or fight against it, that his brother had left the one thing that could give him the means to defeat Mundus. The amulet. The other half that his brother had worn since the day their mother had given the halves to each of them. 

He wore it himself from that day on. It was part of her, part of his father. He never understood the power of that amulet. In halves it had no real power. But together...Together, it allowed him to become the Dark Knight. It allowed the sword Force Edge to become the true sword his father had carried until his own death, Sparda. The sword of a Dark Knight. 

Now, Trish carried it, and the sword. He hadn't the heart to take them from her. She looked like his mother, indeed she did. Even acted like her in many ways. Mundus was far too intuitive as far as that went. But his intuition backfired, in the most bizarre way. 

Dante had grieved over her body, Trish had given her life to save his. An act of humanity. Something someone evil should never have done. Giving one's life for the sake of another, was an act of selflessness. The ultimate act...Of love. 

As his mother gave her life to save his, so had Trish, and apparently, so had his brother. He sighed, and stared at the open drawer, the journal rested there and it wasn't the place for it, somehow it just didn't seem right to lock it away in the darkness. Even if it were in his nightstand. 

He reached out and touched it, and thought again. Vergil, his brother...The brother he'd only known for a few short years in his lifetime, and would always miss, and wonder "what if?" 

When he'd left Trish laying on the floor, of that cathedral where Mundus had resided, he'd left Sparda, and the amulet with her. It was symbolic: his family was together again. His mother rested in her, his father in the sword, and his brother in the amulet. It had been his chance to finally say goodbye. 

He quickly swiped at a tear that had managed to sneak past his control. He felt the knot in his throat loosening, and picked up the journal again, "I forgive you, Vergil. I know it had to be tough. At least...You found your way. And you were wrong, you did have some humanity left. Way to go Bro." He whispered, and taking the book with him, he walked out of his room. 

He had a place for it after all. 

Ω 

Fine'... 


End file.
